


ignition

by moonvalentine



Category: Naruto
Genre: F/M, Implied Sexual Content, hot n fresh out the kitchen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-04-17 03:04:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4649814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonvalentine/pseuds/moonvalentine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Now, usually I don't do this, but uh..." // Tsunade gets hot and bothered when Jiraiya relays some shocking new information regarding the Akatsuki cases.</p>
            </blockquote>





	ignition

**Author's Note:**

> basically a continuation of what definitely happened in episode 35 of shippuden. I am holding down the fort in one of the loneliest/best ships in history. this fic is mostly just me fucking around but I hope someone out there loves and appreciates them as much as I do. please. 
> 
> I also love and appreciate comments so feel free leave them if you have them.

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“There are two times in my life when I’ve come close to dying.”

 _Oh please,_ Tsunade thinks to herself, eyes threatening to roll from their sockets at the amount of drama dripping from Jiraiya’s voice. The conversation has been serious enough without his help. _Not this shit again._

“The first time,” the man begins and shrugs his red haori off one shoulder, “I broke six ribs, and both my arms, and several of my internal organs were ruptured as well.” Jiraiya slips the other side of the garment off, tossing it with practiced ease on the foot of the hospital bed, and begins sliding the sleeves of his kimono off too.

“I was at the onsen, trying to take a peek at the women’s bath, when Tsunade laid it on me really good.” His tone holds enough teasing lightness to invite a snort from a bedridden Kakashi, but enough earnestness to garner a wide-eyed look of shock from Yamato. 

Tsunade’s face flushes a light shade of embarrassment, but it is less from the recollection of the ridiculous memory, and more from the realization that she’s been intently watching the way the faded fabric has journeyed slowly down to his wrists from his immensely broad shoulders. She grumbles unintelligibly, cursing under her breath at herself. It’s been a very long while since she has cared to notice such bizarre details—especially on her fellow Sannin. 

A breath catches rather pitifully in her throat as the kimono drops to hang from where it’s tied at his hips, leaving him only in his mesh undershirt, the hem of which one of his large hands moves to grasp. He can’t really be taking off his shirt at a time like this, _really!_ —but it must be important if he feels the need to do so in front of subordinates like Kakashi, Yamato, and Shizune, of all people. For ninja, especially war veterans, nudity is hardly something to get worked up about.

But sweet merciful Hokages, at the first glimpse of his well-defined lower abdomen, the warm spring breeze streaming in from the open window feels all too oppressive to the ice-cold Godaime.

“The second time was during training with Naruto, when he revealed the fourth of the kyuubi’s chakra tails.” The gravity of the words hangs significantly in the air of the room, but with each muscle revealed in the removal of his shirt, Tsunade finds the atmosphere increasingly overwhelming and humid. A bead of sweat even dares to trickle its way down in front of her ear.

Memory certainly does not serve her well, even if she is getting up in the years. Jiraiya is too, of course, but just like her, he’s clearly been taking relatively good care of himself, excluding the massive crater of a scar that mars the width of his chest. After all her exposure to the human body—not to mention to Jiraiya himself over the years—she’s forgotten the power a good physique can hold over her nerves. He’d looked so bulky beneath all those layers, but even at his age, his lifestyle had kept him insanely cut and in peak condition. It, somehow, is a bit of a shock to her.

Thankfully, he replaces his clothes soon after the grand reveal, and the only sound left in the rather surprised group is one of Tsunade’s heel tapping rapidly against the floor.

The rest of them mistake the noise for impatience, something not one soul in Konoha or beyond wants to be on the receiving end of, so their meeting is quick as Jiraiya and Kakashi finish debriefing Yamato on the implications of being Naruto’s temporary team leader. It’s quite a good thing that Tsunade hardly has to contribute as she’s barely listened to the rest of the conversation. When they’re done, the Hokage, before she can stop herself, turns with a whip of her pigtails to face her fellow Sannin.

“Jiraiya, my office. Now.” Her tone is as commanding as usual, but with a feist behind it that interests the man enough to quirk his brow. He frowns in confusion but nonetheless shrugs and responds accordingly.

“Sure thing, boss lady.” Jiraiya salutes her, then Kakashi and Yamato with a smirk before somehow getting his massive body through the window of the hospital room and leaving. 

Shizune follows Tsunade as she stomps back to her office, a look of determination contorting the Godaime’s otherwise unwrinkled face as she breathes through her nose, loudly inhaling and exhaling. The two of them quickly ascend the stairs of the Hokage Tower, and with each step Shizune becomes extremely nervous, rightfully so—Tsunade’s earlier anger at her assistant warrants quite a bit of anxiety when combined with her current foul mood. 

Finally, when they meet an ever-casual Jiraiya lounging against the railing at the top, Tsunade turns her head toward Shizune, who stands a cautious two steps behind her. 

Her eyes are on the tall man before her as she speaks. “Shizune, go and get those archived files I asked you about earlier.”

“Ah...which ones, Tsunade-sa—”

This time, she turns fully to glare almost murderously at the dark-haired woman below her. “Dammit, Shizune, do I _have_ to repeat myself? Figure it out! You’re treading on thin ice today, girl, I swear to the gods above.”

The assistant’s face can only be described as panicked as she sputters out a response and dashes inside the tower, the door of which Jiraiya holds open in an uncommonly gentlemanly gesture. After a pause, the Hokage rolls her eyes and marches inside the building, Jiraiya following behind with slow, wide footsteps. 

The clack of his steel-soled sandals against the floor makes her feel increasingly keyed up as they trek down the hallway alone. She’ll just get this over with quickly, she tells herself, and then go about the rest of her day in peace. Maybe she’ll even treat herself to a cup of sake or two over the rest of her paperwork.

“So,” Jiraiya drawls, simultaneously curious and slightly apprehensive, “what’d you want to talk about? I’m assuming it’s about the Akatsuki, or Naruto. Or both, given the circumstances lately.” He is a few paces behind her, where she can’t witness his usual half-lidded eyes and inquisitive pout he’s had since his teenage years.

“I’m the Hokage. I’ll talk to you about whatever the hell I want.” Her tone is as clipped as the echoes of her quick steps in the empty space.

“What’s got your granny panties in a twist, Tsunade?” The playful lilt in his baritone voice oozes with his trademark suggestiveness. “Elders find the flask on your thigh holster again?”

“Nope.”

“You know, I can check that for you if you want, make sure it’s hidden enough. I have a lot of experience with—”

“Shut your ass, Jiraiya.” Tsunade’s golden pigtails flow out from behind her stiff figure, their girlish, delicate movement a direct contrast to her...well, everything. The Sannin member behind her chuckles audibly.

When they reach the doors to her office, she stands still for a few seconds to unlock the seals she places on them for security’s sake. She can feel how close behind her Jiraiya is, his shadow looming over her short stature, and her nerves radiate with tension she prays only she can perceive. The man follows her into the office then shuts the door behind her so she can reactivate the seals. He looks at her expectantly, awaiting an explanation, but she circles around him with a wide berth and goes to sit at her desk.

After a minute or so, Tsunade places her elbows on the desk and rests her chin on top of her interwoven fingers, noticing Jiraiya regarding her with a raised brow. She returns the gesture.

“Danzou got your tongue?” he jokes, grinning as he places a hand on his hip.

“Take off your shirt,” she replies as evenly as if she were handing out a C-rank mission.

If Jiraiya is astonished, he hardly shows it—instead, his grin only grows into a salacious expression before he barks a haughty laugh. She knows he’s wondering what’s gotten into her, and quite honestly, she’s wondering the same damn thing. 

“Only if you show me yours, Hime.” The old title falls off his tongue like a taunt in a schoolyard and she tries her hardest not to blush for the second time that day.

Tsunade clears her throat. “Take off your goddamn shirt.” For reasons involving her dignity, she hastily adds, “I need to assess the damage involved with your scar.”

Feigning more major disappointment than he actually feels, he follows her command and drops each piece of clothing haphazardly to the floor as he strips. The Hokage brings one of her perfectly manicured thumbnails to her mouth, chipping the cherry-red polish with her teeth as she gnaws on it. The faintly bitter taste of it coats her tongue and she realizes she’s nearly salivating at the sight in front of her again. _Get it together, Senju, for the love of all that is holy._

Unfortunately for her, it’s difficult to get it together when a half-naked and beyond-ripped legendary shinobi is standing in her direct line of sight.

“Pretty nasty, huh,” he says after another long moment of nothing but her staring openly.

“It’s a wonder you idiots survived,” she mumbles under her breath, then puts more force into her voice. “Come over here. I don’t feel like getting up.”

Tsunade backs away from the desk to allow Jiraiya space to sit on the surface—he’s far too tall for her to reach otherwise, at least while she’s sitting down. When he settles comfortably on the edge, his proximity doesn’t go unnoticed by either of them, and the red lines on his face crinkle a little when he flirtatiously narrows his eyes. A put-upon scoff sounds from her mouth while she places a chakra-coated hand on his chest.

She tries to concentrate, she really does, but his skin is so warm and his tan is so deep against the white of his hair, and she can see the hundreds of freckles on his shoulders from years of sun exposure. She tries to tell herself they’re liver spots or some other repulsive symptom of aging, but she of all people knows the difference. In any case, it doesn’t do anything to quell the wave of heat rising from her stomach up to the cap of her skull and down to her toes that curl against the soles of her shoes. She tries to focus on diminishing some of the scar tissue in the crater of a wound, but it's old enough now that her healing doesn’t do much, and the silvery nerve-damaged skin is smooth where her fingertips have accidentally brushed against it. The lump in her throat becomes difficult to swallow around so she stays silent for several minutes.

“You’re awfully quiet today.”

Tsunade further furrows her brow in faux concentration, averting her eyes to the stack of papers by where his palm is placed. “It’s a bad wound. It requires my full attention.”

Jiraiya laughs, a low, quiet hum in his throat that she can feel in her fingers. “Is that so?”

“Are you _really_ going to sit here and question my healing methods?” she snaps, now glowering at his smug expression. 

“Of course not.” His head tips to the side slightly, considering her, and some longer pieces of his hair drape over the ridge of the subtly defined muscles around his collarbone. “What I _am_ going to question is why you’ve had your hand on my chest for five minutes without using any chakra.”

The Godaime can feel the horror spread over her features as she glances down to confirm that yes, indeed, her hand is simply resting against the warped area of his pectoral, green glow of medical ninjutsu long gone. Her mouth opens and closes several times, speechless with mortification.

One look back up at his suddenly knowing countenance, that undeniably attractive twist of his mouth and the mischievous glint in his dark eyes, and she makes the split decision to forgo some bullshit explanation altogether. With enough strength to draw a yelp from the man, and enough speed to prevent herself from regretting this whole thing, she grabs a fistful of his hair and crushes her lips against his.

Jiraiya, though evidently surprised, wastes no time in slipping his fingers through her hair and his tongue into her mouth. Tsunade’s head swims when his hand moves to her lower back, big enough to cover the entire expanse of it, and pulls her closer. She can’t remember the last time she’d kissed someone, and certainly not the last time she’d been kissed _this_ hard.

They move on fast, ardent impulse, making out with the urgency of teenagers. It is impossible for her to resist running her nails down his arms to greedily trace the curves of hard muscles beneath his skin. She feels goosebumps rising beneath the trail of her fingers and grins satisfactorily against his mouth. 

“What’s so funny?” Jiraiya murmurs against her lips when they break for oxygen, breathless enough to make her smile grow even wider, more arrogant.

Standing to meet his eye level, she pushes his shoulders forcefully enough to knock him horizontal, not giving a shit that the stack of papers Shizune had meticulously organized was now fluttering to the floor and crumpling beneath Jiraiya’s head. “Stop talking,” she mutters and grabs the waistband of his pants before hoisting herself on top of him, “or I’ll rip your dick off with my bare hands.” 

The desk creaks beneath their combined weight when she straddles him. “And here I was, thinking I’d have to ask you to do it myself,” the man replies smoothly as he holds her hips with both hands. They both laugh somewhat maniacally before she leans over him, fire blazing in her eyes.

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Later that afternoon, when Shizune has to file a damage report for the office, she writes it off an emergency ANBU break-in due to a false alarm signal. However, the wooden desk pulverized mostly to sawdust, the several shattered windows on the top floor of the Hokage Tower, the splintered floorboards, the body-shaped holes in the drywall, the fistful of white hair scattered around the room, the broken sake bottles and picture frames littering the floor, the half-healed bruises covering Jiraiya’s body, Tsunade’s severe chakra exhaustion, and the order for entirely new clothes on both ends—not to mention the yelling that could be heard all the way to Suna—make everyone wonder what poor Jiraiya has done this time to deserve Tsunade’s pent-up wrath from hell. They can’t imagine why she would attack him so ruthlessly.

Whenever people ask, he just laughs deeply and hysterically until one of his still-broken ribs cuts it short.


End file.
